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"She cut it really bad," David said.
Lucy had a beautiful, unique home, but I was only focused on her injury. She extended her hand and I peeked under the gauze. It was a type of gash I had seen before. It was a loose L-shaped cut on the fatty pad of the palm of her hand, at the base of her thumb. I glanced at her, to find that she was looking away and trying not to flinch.
Alec had come in behind me, but I looked at David since he had been over there when it happened. "I'm going to need a clean towel. Please wash your hands before you bring it." He nodded and took off, and I looked at Lucy. "I'm sorry this happened. I've sewn up similar wounds, so I know it hurts. I'm so sorry. I have lidocaine in my bag—not a whole lot, but enough to make that area feel better for a little while. And I'm pretty sure I can do as good a job stitching that as anyone you'll see at a clinic. If you know a good plastic surgeon or have a doctor on call, that's a different story. But if you're just going to a walk-in clinic, I feel like we could do it here, the same as or better than they would."
"I was just going to a clinic," Lucy said. "I would love to do it here." She smiled, but it was reluctant. She was scared, and she seemed relieved that I wasn't panicking. She took a deep breath. "I don't have a plastic surgeon on call," she added, trying to joke around.
Someone spoke up, making a joke about how young she looked for her age as a response to her statement, but I was already on to other things. I looked at Alec. "I'm going to wash my hands. Please show me the way."
He pointed, and I noticed a hallway. "On the left," he said.
"I'm going to need some paper towels and I'd love some music playing, if you don't mind. Something easy in the background. Maybe elevator music or worship—turned down low—just breaking the silence." I looked at Lucy. "Are you okay with us setting up right here? We've got a lot of light here with these glass doors." I pointed at the table where she was already sitting, and she nodded. I looked at Alec again. "I'm going to get my stuff together and wash up. If you could, get some music going and then ask everyone to give us a little room. We'll be done shortly."
Alec nodded, and I took off. I went through the process of finding the restroom and washing my hands. I took a minute, thinking of the tools and the process, and getting myself psyched to perform this simple procedure. By the time I got back over there, it was just Lucy, her son Mac, and Alec.
"I'm leaving," Alec said. "I'll be in the living room with everyone else. I just wanted to see if I could get anything for you.
"I need you to open my purse and open the nurse's kit."
"Can I stay over here with y'all?" Mac asked. He was a big, burly football-playing man who was standing there holding his mom's hand.
"Of course," I said. "I just wanted mostly everyone gone. It's better if we have some peace and quiet. But you can definitely stay. You too Alec. I'll have you fixed up in no time, Ms. Klein."
"Thank you," she said weakly, leaning into Mac's side.
Alec set my things next to the towel. I had three of these kits, and I replaced them all with fresh ones every fall. The kit included a suture kit, an epi-pen, a choking device, along with various medicines for things like nausea and pain. I quickly found everything I would need to numb the area and apply stitches. I had given stitches another time at the marina when someone got a hook in their back. I didn't do any suturing in my job as a school nurse, but I had practice at it from my internship, and I felt confident with this specific cut.
I talked to Lucy the whole time I worked. I numbed the area with the small disposable dose of anesthetic. I gave it a few minutes to take effect, and then I got to work cleaning and stitching the wound. I got nervous at the thought of Lucy being a famous author, but I focused on the task. I pretended I was sewing fabric, making perfect little loops before tying them off one-by-one.
I worked as quickly and neatly as I could. I spoke calmly and quietly to Lucy mostly. Now and then, I aimed a question at Mac who seemed to be as torn-up as his mom. I had decided I wanted to put some ointment on it and cover it when I was finished, so I sent Ozzy and Evie to the store for medical tape. They were still gone when I got down to the last stitch.
"Okay, last one," I said to Lucy.
"Really? Oh goodness. That was good and fast. That was okay. How do they look?" She was looking at Mac and talking to him, and he leaned over to inspect my work, but I pretended I thought she was talking to me.
"They look good," I said confidently. "I'm on my last one right now. Hold still for one more minute."
"How many are there?" she asked. She was trying to be so still that the words came out stiffly.
"Looks like ten or so," Mac said.
"This last one makes nine, I think," I said. "I'll count once I get it done."
I looped the last stitch, threading the thin black material and easily tying it in a knot.
I took a second to inspect my work and count the stitches. "Okay," I said, sitting up and looking at Lucy for the first time in a while. "It looks great, and there are nine stitches. It should heal nicely. I would take whatever pain medicine you normally use as needed. If you think you need something stronger, I can place a call to a doctor friend of mine, and he can call you something out. I ran out of tape, but I'll cover it once Ozzy gets back. And I'll write down some care instructions to leave with you. But just keep it clean and it should heal quickly."
Lucy was relieved to have it done. She went from unable to look at it to inspecting the wound. She was proud of herself for getting through the worst of it, and she kept assuring herself that… "It's not that bad." Other family members came over to check it out. Pictures were taken and I was asked to get in a few of them since I was the medical professional on duty. Ozzy and Evie made it back with the tape while everyone was still checking out her wound and congratulating both of us on our bravery and skill.
